~ Seraphina ~
“Is that all for today, ma’am?” the courier asked. His voice was a flat, professional drone that seemed to bounce off the cold marble of the Vale penthouse foyer.
I looked down at the small, padded envelope in his gloved hand. It was unremarkable, devoid of any branding or return address. My name was printed on the front in a sharp, mechanical font that felt like a needle prick against the cream-colored paper.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, my voice steadier than the erratic thumping of my heart. I reached into my pocket, fished out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to him. Our fingers brushed for a fleeting second—a rare moment of human contact in a week where I had felt more like a ghost than a woman.
He nodded once, a quick, practiced gesture, and disappeared back into th
